by Lydia Dare
“Perhaps you should make a polite exit, return to Holmesfield’s, and sleep it off,” the viscount recommended softly.
Sleep what off? Livi glanced between the two of them. Gray did have a sheen to his eyes that wasn’t typically there. And a slight flush to his cheeks. Had he been drinking? She’d never seen either of her brothers quite so foxed and they imbibed quite regularly.
“Nothing to sleep off,” Gray growled at his brother. “I’ll get some punch for you, Livi,” he said quietly and then turned on his heel and left. He wavered a bit as he spun. But he righted himself well enough. Anyone who didn’t know him would think he was just a bit clumsy.
Lord Radbourne sighed heavily. “I had no idea you’d affect him the way you do. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have agreed to come on this trip. Nor would I have allowed him to do so.”
Affected him? Livi laid a hand on her chest in surprise. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“I should have noticed it this afternoon when he nearly took my head off. You falling to the ground affected him much more than it should have.” He scanned the room the whole time he talked. He was obviously able to perform more than one task at a time. Now she just wished she could rein him in so she could find out what on earth he was talking about. He chuckled. “Don’t look at me like you don’t know.” He grinned broadly, a smile that was nearly contagious.
But she didn’t know. “Enlighten me?” she prompted.
“My brother likes you.”
Livi bit back a smile. “That’s better than loathing me,” she retorted.
“On the contrary, it would be much better if he did loathe you, I’m afraid,” Radbourne said stoically.
Just then, the sound of instruments being tuned reached her ears. The piercing shriek of a violin and the rhythm of a poorly played cello filled the air. She winced. How could the viscount keep from howling at the sound? “That’s dreadful,” she mouthed at him.
“Just wait until they actually start to play,” he warned.
Livi wanted nothing more than to prompt Lord Radbourne to continue his discussion about Gray liking her. But Sophie stepped forward and said, “We should find our seats. Somewhere near the middle.”
“Why the middle?” Livi asked.
“The sycophants and family members sit in the front.”
“And we are neither,” Archer intoned.
Sophie glared at him. Then she continued as though he’d never spoken, “And the people who sit in the back dearly want to escape early.”
“That would be me,” Radbourne whispered, his lips exaggerating his words.
Livi absently thought that she could like him if he gave her half an opportunity, but that was not to be. At least at the moment, because Sophie took Livi’s hand and pulled her toward a row of seats in the middle of the room.
“Should we save a space for Gray?” Livi glanced over her shoulder at the viscount.
Radbourne looked at her askance. “Gray now, is it?”
Heat crept up Livi’s cheeks. She hadn’t meant to say that. Drat it all. She was one walking blunder after another. “Mr. Hadley, I meant to say,” she amended as she took her seat.
“Too late to take it back now, my dear,” he said with a clicking sound of his tongue and sat beside her. “Just be certain you don’t do it in front of anyone important.” He glanced in his mother’s direction. “They might have you leg-shackled to him before you can blink twice.”
Married to Grayson Hadley? Livi couldn’t even fathom the idea, and neither could Grayson Hadley. The image of him bolting from her grandfather’s music room that afternoon flashed once again in her mind.
Livi’s reverie broke when the crowd quieted and what she assumed was supposed to be music began at the front of the room. Livi crossed her hands in her lap and sat up straight. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gray approaching with a glass of punch. That must be her glass. It was sweet of him to retrieve it for her. He seemed as though he was trying to apologize for his boorish comment from that afternoon. Livi smiled at him, a genuine smile of thanks.
But something went dreadfully wrong when she smiled at him. He blinked twice at her, looked down at her lips, licked his own in a most lascivious manner, and tripped.
The expression on his face was that of sheer desperation as he fell forward. Livi looked down to see his foot hooked behind some ancient lady’s cane, which seemed most odd. Had the matron tripped Gray on purpose? Livi spent a mere second looking down and didn’t even see the glass of punch hurtling in her direction until it was too late. It wasn’t until a sticky orange liquid splashed across her face and down the front of her dress that pure mortification washed over her as well.
“Nique ta mère!” she muttered.
All at once the music stopped, a large gasp echoed, and every eye in the room focused on her.
***
The vilest French curse Gray had ever heard escaped Livi’s mouth, and censure hung heavy in the air. Dear God, this was entirely his fault. If he hadn’t doused her with that damned punch, she would have never muttered such a foul thing. At least he didn’t think she would have.
“Oh, God, Livi,” he said, trying to scramble to his feet. “I’m so sorry.” For what he’d done and for what she’d just done to herself. He wasn’t the only French speaker in the room, and the words she’d used couldn’t quite be mistaken for anything else.
Another gasp rang out in the air.
What had happened now? Archer kicked Gray in the shin just as he rose to his full height. “Cork-brained fool!” Archer hissed.
“I said I was sorry,” Gray muttered, though no one seemed to pay him any attention. He bent and rubbed his bruised shin absently. That is, until Lady Sophia glowered at him.
“Lord Radbourne,” Lady Sophia began, a martinet if Gray had ever heard one. “Please have your coach brought around. I believe Miss Mayeux would like to return home early this evening.”
Archer was gone in a flash, or at least it seemed like a flash. In truth, if Gray had been completely sober, Archer’s speed would not have surprised him in the least. But apparently he was more foxed than he’d realized.
Gray reached for Livi as Lady Sophia ushered her toward the corridor, but all he got was a fistful of air. “Livi,” he called.
Someone elbowed him in his side. “You have done quite enough, Grayson.” He winced at the shrillness of his mother’s voice. “Pray close your mouth.”
Mother was never shrill. Never. Not once that Gray could remember. He blinked as he gazed down at his mother, feeling the room spin just a bit with his movement. “I think I should sit down.”
She glowered at him, which was very unlike her. “And ruin everyone else’s evening? Stumble home. When you are sober, I want a word with you.” Then she brushed past him, following in Livi’s and Lady Sophia’s wake.
Gray felt a roomful of eyes on him and he slowly glanced around the drawing room. What the devil was he doing here? And with these stuffy people? He dropped into the chair Livi had vacated and held his head in his hands.
After a moment, someone clapped a hand to Gray’s back. “Mr. Hadley,” Lord Longborough’s voice invaded his thoughts, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Gray snorted. He was being asked to leave? He never wanted to attend this bloody affair in the first place. He staggered to his feet and glared at the stuffy lord. “It will be my greatest honor to leave your home.”
Another gasp sounded in the room. For God’s sake! Were these people only capable of gasping? They must lead rather mundane lives and be rather light-headed most of the time. He turned on his heel and stalked from the room and down the corridor, weaving only the tiniest bit. He brushed past the Longboroughs’ butler and out into the cool night air, just in time to see Lord Holmesfield’s coach round the corner. Devil take it all!
“If,” Archer stepped out of the shadows, “there’s a bigger fool in all of England, I’ve never met him.”
Gray c
losed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Perhaps if he couldn’t see his brother, Archer might disappear entirely, just like the coach had done.
Archer snorted. “Don’t ignore me, Grayson.” So much for imagining his brother away. “Perhaps you don’t mind having your arse handed to you by Dash, but I don’t enjoy it. And particularly not when I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
Who knew Archer was such a whimpering pup? “Dash isn’t even here,” Gray protested.
“Not yet. But if you don’t think he’ll show up after the blistering letter Sophia Cole is sure to send him, you’re a bigger idiot than I ever imagined.”
“Don’t you think you’re making too much out of this? It was an accident, Arch. I didn’t mean to trip. I didn’t mean to dump that drink on Livi. I didn’t mean—”
“Did you mean to use her Christian name?” Archer growled. “Two times, Gray! You called her ‘Livi’ two times in there. How long do you think that will take to get back to her grandfather?”
Had he? Gray’s mouth fell open. He wouldn’t have done that. He’d counseled her against doing so herself. He… He had. Gray thought he might be sick.
“Having an association with you is the last thing that will help her, you know.”
“I know!” Gray roared, louder than was necessary, but it felt good to roar.
Archer stomped forward and grabbed Gray by the lapels of his coat. “And now you’ll bring Dash’s wrath down on both of us. And Cait’s.”
And truly their sister-in-law’s wrath was worse. Cait would furrow her pretty brow and tell Gray how disappointed she was in him. Disappointing her was worse than disappointing their mother, because for some reason, Cait actually believed they could be welcomed by society if they just learned to behave. Hiring Lady Sophia had even been her idea. It was all a bunch of nonsense.
Gray shoved his brother away. “Get off me.” Then he started toward Brock Street, staggering more than he’d like.
Before he knew it, Archer grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hurried him in the other direction. “I may not be the alpha, but I won’t have you ignore me, Grayson.” He pushed him down Marlborough Lane, past Upper Bristol Road, and all the way to the River Avon.
Gray squirmed in his older brother’s grasp. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“Sobering you up. Quickest way I know how.”
With a hard shove to the back, Gray stumbled forward down the riverbank and splashed into the Avon. The chilly waters nearly turned his blood to ice, and he shot back out of the river like a cannonball, spitting out water and sputtering. “What the devil is wrong with you?”
Archer, in his nice and dry clothes, stood on the riverbank glowering at Gray. “You, for one thing,” he sneered.
Gray sloshed onto dry land, shaking the river water from his hair like a wet dog as he went. “I can’t believe you did that. If Lady Sophia had seen that—”
Archer rolled his eyes. “After your performance tonight, I’m sure she would have applauded me.” He heaved a sigh. “Sober enough to talk to me? Or are you still going to act like an indignant pup who needs to be dunked again?”
Gray folded his sopping arms across his chest. “Say whatever it is, so I can get out of these wet clothes.”
Archer nodded once. “Very well. You’ll pack your things and head to London first thing in the morning.”
Gray had never wanted to come to Bath in the first place. But now that he was here, now that he’d spent time with Livi, held her in his arms… “I promised Miss Mayeux that we’d work on the minuet and a country dance tomorrow.” That wasn’t true at all, but Archer wouldn’t have any way of knowing that.
“Then I’ll teach her.”
Gray scoffed. “Send her landing on her arse again? I’ve seen how capable you are of helping her.”
“You’ve hurt her much worse this evening than I ever could have.”
And in the pit of Gray’s stomach he knew Archer was right. Poor Livi. Had he hurt her chances beyond repair? He hadn’t meant to, not at all.
“The chit has you all tied up in knots.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
But Archer paid him no attention and continued, “Who knows what you’ll do next? It’ll be best for everyone, particularly Miss Mayeux and you, if you head to London tomorrow.”
Male laughter from the road caught Gray’s attention and he stared into the darkness toward the street.
“Grayson Hadley?” came Henry Siddington’s voice. “Have you decided to swim the Avon? Or did you decide it was simply time to bathe?”
“Bugger off,” Archer snarled, which only made Siddington and his companions laugh harder.
Eleven
“There you are, miss.” Marie poured one last bucket of hot water into a copper tub. Then she helped peel Livi’s damp gown from her body. “You’ll feel better after your bath.”
Livi doubted she’d feel better, but it would be nice to wash the stickiness from her skin and the tears from her cheeks. Bon Dieu! She never cried… Well, she rarely cried. Life with Papa and her brothers didn’t leave room for tears, but ever since landing in England, Livi had become something of a watering pot who’d lost control of her life. Though honestly, she had lost that control somewhere on the Atlantic, hadn’t she?
“Thank you, Marie. I can take it from here,” she said as she stepped into the tub.
Her maid nodded and then stepped around the changing screen. “Lady Sophia would like an audience with you.”
Livi sank into the warm water and heaved a sigh. “I suppose you can send her in.”
Marie glanced over her shoulder at Livi. “Listen to her ladyship. I believe she truly has your best interests at heart.”
And though Livi was certain of the same thing, she just wanted to be alone. That, however, was not to be. “I said you can send her in.”
Without another word, her maid escaped into the corridor and Lady Sophia stepped into Livi’s room. Though she couldn’t see the lady with the changing screen placed in front of the tub, Livi could sense her tutor’s unhappy presence. “Well,” she said more brightly than she felt, “I suppose that’s one way to get out of a musicale.”
A large sigh echoed around the room and then Livi heard her bed creak just a bit as Sophie must have sat down. “Heavens, Livi, where did you hear such an expression?”
Livi winced. Her exclamation when she’d been doused with punch had been fairly vulgar. The mere suggestion of one having relations with one’s mother was one for the scandal sheets. She would never live it down. Ever. “What expression?” she asked innocently, hoping against hope Sophie meant something else entirely.
She didn’t. “That has to be the most vile thing I’ve ever heard.”
Livi gulped. “Do you think anyone else heard it?”
Sophie scoffed. “I think everyone heard it, and those who weren’t present tonight will have heard about it on the morrow. I don’t even know how to advise you. How could you say such a terrible thing?”
Livi wasn’t sure. “It just flew out,” she tried to explain. “I don’t know, Sophie. I didn’t mean to. I must have heard one of the sailors on Vespucci’s Marauder say it, and it just slipped out.” In truth, she’d heard her brother and cousins yell that very curse at each other most of her life, but she didn’t really want to admit that.
“Well, however you came by that unfortunate phrase, you can count on your grandfather finding out about it in the morning. You may have ruined yourself beyond repair this evening.”
Livi sat up straight in her bath, sloshing warm water over the rim of the tub. “Perhaps Grandfather will send me back to New Orleans, then.”
Sophie gasped. “Liviana Mayeux, did you do this on purpose? Are you trying to get yourself sent away?”
She hadn’t been. But it wasn’t a terrible idea, was it? What if her grandfather and Sophie couldn’t tame her? Would they send her back to Papa?
“Livi?” Sophie demanded.
“
Non,” she answered quietly. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
The bed creaked again and Livi heard Sophie’s footsteps as she crossed the floor. Her tutor walked around the changing screen and frowned at her. “I sincerely hope not. Because he won’t send you home, Livi.”
“Then what…?” she began.
“He mentioned a convent in Ireland to Lady Radbourne. I assure you, you don’t want to end up there.”
What bit of hope Livi had at seeing home again died a quick but sad death. “A convent?” So she could spend her days around other pious busybodies like Father Antonio? Livi would sooner run away in the dead of night and land a job as a tavern wench. Or perhaps she’d join a band of Barbary pirates. Or maybe she’d swim all the way to Louisiana on her own and confront Papa. How could he do this to her?
“Livi.” Sophie’s frown deepened. “I don’t like that expression. Tell me you’re not thinking of doing something rash.”
Livi forced a smile to her face and shook her head. “Of course not. Rashness would only land me in a convent.”
Sophie took what seemed like sigh of relief. “Good. We’ll sort all of this out in the morning, then. I promise.”
But Sophie’s promise meant very little. Livi believed that her friend would try to help her, of course. But if her grandfather was set on sending Livi off to a convent, she doubted there was anything Sophie could really do to prevent such a fate.
“Sleep well, Livi, because I fear that tomorrow will be a difficult day for you.”
Difficult, indeed. Insufferable. Positively dreadful. She sank lower in the bath until her head disappeared below the water. She stayed there until her lungs were ready to burst. And only then did she come up gasping for air. Why was it that her real life so resembled her bath? Constantly gasping for air.
***
Gray paced back and forth down the corridor, careful to keep his footsteps light since Lady Sophia slept in the chamber just next door to Livi’s. He rubbed absently at his forehead. The ache that was building between his eyes was one of epic proportions. And he deserved every last twinge and pain. What he’d done to Livi was terrible. Awful. He’d never, ever be forgiven. And he didn’t deserve to be.
